Changes
by the maids diaries
Summary: Mary's wedding is giving something for Carson to think about, or a lot.
1. Chapter 1

**I should be working at my other fanfic, but this came up, so... For all my loganites who are HAPPY about M/M wedding! \\o**

**Chapter 1**

Apparently the old days had finally returned, that was the impression he had. The noises of the house were the same as before, the tasks and concerns were limited to domestic life again. But something had changed at Downton, and this time it was for the best, surely. The war had finally come to an end, suitable men returned to work and he had finally managed to hire a new second footman in spite of everything. The other good news was the return of Mr. Bates, to the relief and joy of all, or almost all.

Standing in the shadow of the great tree, he watched the movement of employees in the garden. Tents had been set up and all the staff came and went hurriedly; carrying things, arranging flowers, towels, cutlery, but despite this interesting vision, something else caught his attention.

The golden sunlight lit up her figure. That sweet and lovely woman wearing a black dress with her keys glittering in the sunlight and her voice, which to him had always been the kindest, was giving orders to the maids, almost like a general. The Scot dragon, they would say.

Mrs. Hughes had everything in order beneath her critical and professional eye. Perfectionist, yes she was, but for him, more than that, she was perfect and the image of that woman was lighting a flame in his chest. Hope filled him when he stopped to observe her without restrictions, when he could study her directly and admire all the minor details. The hope for times of peace, hope for times of love, hope for them to be.

He never could imagine a life outside of Downton, there he was at home and felt complete. In Downton he had found the peace that he missed so much in Cheerful Charlies' times. Even so, it was harder to imagine a life without her. Together they kept the house running smoothly, no problem, however serious it was, seemed impossible to solve and no hardship was strong enough not to be overcome. Together, always together. Elsie Hughes was not only his companion of a lifetime, but his life itself. There is no Downton without Elsie and no Charles without her.

There was a time that his love for Downton appeared to be bigger, stronger and more necessary than her, her love and the love he felt for her. But the years passed and life teaches many things. Now, many years after the first brush of fingers, the first walking arm in arm, the first innocent kiss, it was easy to understand that without her Downton also had no meaning. His peace was not being at Downton, but her being there with him. She lived there with him, a few meters away and untouchable most of the time.

And perhaps this was only caused by his imagination or the influence of the romance that Valentine's Day left the air, or even the animation with the marriage of Lady Mary Crawley with Matthew, but suddenly it seemed impossible to keep track of his feelings. Over the years he got used to the twists and turns of fate, with moments of peace, with moments of union with the love and friendship that held them together. But now, all he could think of were those rare moments in which their shields fell to the ground, when their masks slipped from their faces and they found themselves lost in each other. He could only think of their eyes fixed on each other, foreheads together and noses touching as she smiled sleepily in his arms.

He didn't even need to make an effort as he closed his eyes to remember the touch of her lips close to his, the feel of her hands in his hair and the warmth of her small body warming the bed. Again the Scot dragon, in so many ways. Crazy, he could only be going crazy. Like a smile that curved her lips, it disappeared easily as the memories of the past months came back to him mind. Charles stared at the grass for a moment, trying to keep a line of thought that didn't drag him from the past few months or the last years. Despite the joy around them, both collapsed slowly, gradually and daily. The closeness was what distanced them.

_"You are my friend, Mr. Carson. The closest I've got, I can say it and doesn't cost me anything. I don't want our friendship to be lost."_ she told him one night when he entered in her pantry with what's left of diner's wine and with a small smile timid on his lips. They had argued about the wedding preparations earlier. He had been demanding perfection of everything, he wanted Lady Mary's marriage to be impeccable and she would just say that she knew he was looking for a heart attack for himself.

Although he still thought it was an exaggeration and that she shouldn't be annoyed by it, he knew that her concern was genuine and sincere. That night, they sat in silence, side by side on the settee, unsure of what to say and do. All he wanted was to make her forget her worries, bring her to him and feel her warmth.

Elsie held her body tense, her hands clasped together holding the glass of wine and staring at the wall, she needed comfort, and all that he was able to do was watch.

Poor fool coward, should have done something, should...

"Carson?"

He turned on his heel and was startled to see Lady Mary. For a moment he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed her approach.

"M'Lady."

"You look sad." Mary said as she came to stand beside the butler, throwing him a piercing and curious look, as she did as a child.

"Certainly not, I'm only overseeing the preparations."

"Mrs. Hughes would not be happy if she knew you were overseeing her service." She still studied him, with a small smile on her lips as she mocked him.

"Maybe not, but tomorrow everything has to be perfect."

"I'm sure it will be."

Mary, who had spent much of her childhood chasing the butler through the house, wasn't easily deceived. It was evident that something was wrong, out of place, even though he strove to demonstrate otherwise.

"Are you happy here?" She asked seriously, letting her gaze get lost in the direction of the tents and allowing herself, as he, to observe the housekeeper.

"Of course, Milady, and why would I not be? I am proud of my position in the house, I am respected by the staff and I have admiration for the family. There is no other place I'd like to be if not here."

"But ..."

"There is no 'but'."

Silence fell upon them comforting but brief while Mary chose the words as carefully as possible. Well, there seemed not to be an easy way to say it, so she sighed and said:

"I know it's none of my business, but you both need to solve whatever has happened."

"Lady Mary I do not know ..."

"We all know Carson, we always knew, since the day she first came here." She said softly turning to face him. "And I know something happened, you look away, thoughtfully."

Carson remained silent for a few seconds before nodding.

"It's not that simple." He said quietly.

"She knows, doesn't she?"

"What, Milady?"

"How you feel about her."

Mary smiled to see him shocked, Carson was totally hopeless. She kissed him gently on his face and squeezed his arm with one hand, showing all her kindness and support.

"Forget the implications and complications. I want you to feel as happy as I am now."

The question now was what should he do?

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**N/A: Thank you for all reviews and alerts. Thank you Onesimus, again and again for all your help! 3  
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**Chapter 2**

Finally everything was almost ready for the wedding. All the requests were in order, almost all the food ready, the tents and tables set up and properly equipped, the crystal was sparkling, the silver was polished and the flower arrangements were in place. Nothing would go wrong, she was convinced of that.

Look at the silver still made her blood boil and her face look sever. The situation between her and Charles came crawling back over the past year, narrowing more and more, especially since his near heart attack, to be precise. That night she feared coming into his room to find him dead or about to die. Today that thought still made her have a catch in her throat and she remembered clearly giving all the orders to the maids and going to her room, letting the tears come out of her chest quickly; leaning on the door while silent tears washed her face.

She had been so long acting as housekeeper that she allowed the position to touch her personally. Crying seemed impossible most of the time except for him. And among those silent tears that did not relieve the anxiety in her chest she finally realized that she could not live without him, neither at that time or ever again. Perhaps, she considered later, when he was medicated and resting, and she watched him from her chair, she could never live without him.

After many years working at Downton, side by side with Charles, and being the only one each other could rely on, it seemed natural that they move ahead, take a new step forward in their relationship. True that from the moment she set her foot in that house and met the young butler she never had eyes for any other man, also true that their fingers quickly found each other the first time and then their bodies were close together in tender hugs and innocent kisses.

They never set any parameters on their relationship, it was a natural consequence of their actions; ups and downs, moments of calm and storm.

At first she felt the overwhelming attraction and found she was unable to contain herself, to say no. To think that both had judged Ethel so harshly for not saying no was ironic. Over time she thought she had developed affection for him, not love, love was unacceptable. She was unable to believe she loved him, never admitting even in thought or in the darkness of her room how much she loved him and came to believe that it was just appropriate to maintain their relationship.

A life, they had spent a life together and she had to almost lose him to understand that there was no way to cheat, like trying to cheat her own heart. She loved him even more than she loved herself, more than she loved her Scotland, more than she loved her profession and allowed to demonstrate that love less than necessary. She rarely stripped off her housekeeper mask and allowed herself to demonstrate not only the sisterly love she felt for him, but the love of a lover, of a woman.

The night after she told him about Joe Burns's proposal, Charles came to her pantry, bringing what was left of dinner's wine, as he did whenever possible, especially when one of them needed to relax. His body was tense, he left the decanter and glasses on the table and stopped to watch her while twisting his hands, his face unreadable.

_"You said you had changed and therefore could not accept the marriage proposal of Mr. Burns, in what sense have you change, I have wondered the rest of the day,"_ he got straight to the point, showing his anxiety as his eyes reflected the fear of earlier hours, when he thought she would leave to marry another man.

It turned out that Elsie could not just go away, even without any compromise, even without telling herself that she loved him. Yes, because she loved him and that moment that was all she could think of.

_"You really don't know, Mr. Carson?"_ she asked after putting her pen and notes aside and turning in her chair to face him.

_"I would like to hear from you, Mrs. Hughes."_ The pain in his eyes was the same she felt inside.

Elsie stood and stared at her shoes, as if they were very interesting at that moment while trying to choose her words. When she finally decided what to say, she approached him to close the space between them, stopping a few inches away. Her little hand stroked his face, making him close his eyes momentarily. A sad smile curved her lips and finally she let her heart speak for herself.

"_There was a time when I was that farm girl that I believed that my heart could belong to Joe Burns, but when I came here to be head housemaid, well, I found that my heart had only one owner, and had never been and never would be Joe._"

_"And that other gentleman is still the owner of your heart, after so long, Mrs. Hughes?"_ He had held his breath, she could feel it under her hand and his face remained inscrutable as only his eyes reflected the huge sadness inside him. It was clear that he had formed his words with some difficulty.

_"Forever."_

Where there should be joy, there was only relief. Charles withdrew her hand from his face and kissed the tip of each finger and her palm while she watched. There was no rush and no other word was spoken, not even when he pulled her towards him by the waist and their lips met, or when they went upstairs late at night holding hands, even when cuddled in the small single bed under the covers. Love, understanding and intimacy. They had it all, nothing really need to be said.

All it took was a look exchanged moments before sleeping and from that night on they had something, a bond, a commitment, not only as individuals bound with each other, but mutual. It would no longer be she and he, but they,_ us_.

Everything went so smooth and quiet, rides into town together, tea cups, wine glasses, reading aloud (including many sonnets), beds and kisses shared countless nights, mornings and afternoons. A proper and discreet relationship, until the war started.

Charles seemed to change from water to wine, all the time he seemed more stressed, skittish, running too many tasks and suddenly _that_. He had always been sure of his opinion, too sure sometimes, and suddenly, in that way, had become a grumpy and stubborn old man. Why turn on the lights if he could write in the dark? Why send a footman to polish the silverware if he could do it himself? How to let the absurdity of having maids serving at the table if he could almost have a heart attack doing it?

Small and ongoing discussions had been fought since then, increasingly splitting the tenuous links between them. When she recovered from the shock of almost losing him, she had to deal with his constant bad mood, then with his irritation at her helping Ethel and then he began to consider leaving for Haxby with Lady Mary.

Charles did not notice the first few nights she had cried herself to sleep. She would never be able to go away and leave him, it was inconceivable to her, but he considered the question for two long weeks. There was sadness and doubt in his eyes whenever he looked at her eyes and tears streamed down his face while they made love in the silence of dawn. There was no passion only physical comfort, they needed to hold each other, feel each other.

Elsie was sad, disappointed, even angry, but did not show any of her feelings. She swallowed it all and let it fall apart inside. He would go away, he told her in the dim light of parlor and all she could do was say that she would miss him. Although more than ever she needed him and her heart begged her to fall at his feet begging him not to go, she locked herself in her room alone and fell asleep with her face sunk into a pillow wet with tears.

It took time for her to get used to the idea of him moving to Haxby, to only seeing him occasionally, when their work permitted, and when she finally got her emotions under control he had decided to stay and then came the Spanish flu and all got mixed in a hurricane of emotions. The easiest thing to do was lock herself in.

For a woman who had seen almost nothing in the world, Elsie could never consider her life in Downton boring, by contrast, it was constant ups and downs and an infinite mix of emotions, many of them contradictory, and all caused by Charles Carson.

His decision to leave and reconsideration had been the culmination of the crisis and since then they had not exchanged any more kisses or spent their nights together under the same sheets. Of course they were still talking cordially, spending their free time together, grooming each other when necessary, exchanging confidences, glances and smiles, but nothing to transpose the barrier of friendship.

In recent days they were speaking only if strictly necessary, since the incident with the silver. She knew he was totally recovered and his health was restored, but what if he were not? It was all the fault of his blind love for Lady Mary and seeing him talking to her in the garden made Elsie even more upset.

"I'm going to town for something, Mr. Carson." She was dressed up with her green suit and hat and ready to leave when she stopped at the door of his parlor. He, as usual, had the book open and a few bottles of wine on the table.

Although the atmosphere between them was only to exchange niceties in recent days, Charles seemed to not only not mind, but also had not shown any effort to change the situation between them, not even trying to minimally improve it. He remained unmoved at all times, at least that was her impression.

"What will you do in the village, Mrs. Hughes?" His curiosity was minimal and not very apparent in his controlled voice, he no longer cared, she was sure.

"I am going to fetch the dresses that Lady Mary had made for me, Anna and O'Brien. Have you already got your new suit?"

He merely nodded and she put her hands together in front of her body.

"I will not take long, we can do the last inspection together when I return, Anna is checking everything right now."

Again he just nodded, looking totally distracted. Would he notice if she packed up and went away? She asked herself with a wounded heart. Maybe not even that.

"Do you need anything?" Elsie repeated with the best voice that she could manage.

"No, Mrs. Hughes. Thank you."

How long she could live like this? She didn't know.

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><p><em><strong>your reviews are welcomed and encouraged, please! Thank you.<br>**_


	3. Chapter 3

**N/a: Sorry for the delay in uptade this fic! Thank you for all reviews, alerts and favs! ;D  
><strong>

**Chapter 3**

_"What do you think you're doing, Charles?" Elsie had entered his parlor like a whirlwind, closing the door quickly behind her. The noise of key loud, the heat in her eyespulsing, her face contorted in a mixtureof concern, moodiness and unbelief. She stopped in front of him, with her hands on her hips._

_Casting a glance at her, Charles noticed that she was ready to give him an earful, like he was a stubborn child. Incredible that Elsie could simply forget the tension between them and the climate of pleasantries with which they were treating each other when something struck heron the head and made awake the dragon._

_"Someone needs to do the job." He grunted in response._

_"Certainly, but not you. Ask a footman to do it."_

_Charles's face became even more taciturn, slightly reddish. Elsie knew him well enough to know how nervous he was. Couldn't she just continue doing her business? Couldn't she keep ignoring I tand ignoring the last almost 20 years as she had been doing lately? The last thing he would want at that moment would be having her demanding explanations and behaviors from him when she barely talked to him herself._

_"I asked twice, Mrs. Hughes." He was keen to stress the use of her last name, pronouncing it carefully, "And both times the service was sloppy so I decided..."_

_"You decided to do it yourself, try harder than necessary, getting anxious without a reason and risk killing yourself. Stop it, please!" Her tone was not as friendly as possible, but he knew, no matter how angry he might be at her, or her at him, that she was saying those things to him because she was concerned about his well being. Elsie and her preoccupation._

_One of her hands caught his arm and tried to stop him._

_"I'm almost done." Charles muttered between his teeth. He turned away from her touch and then rubbed the silver candlestick quickly, with frantic movements. How stubborn he was._

_"Let go Charles." She demanded with her most commanding tone, the housekeeper._

_"No!"_

_"Let go!" She tried to pull the piece out of his hands, this time as his friend._

_"Stop..." The sudden and sharp stab silenced him and the candlestick fell to the ground noisily. "Aaarrrghhh ..." He groaned, curling up in his chair with his hand clutching his chest._

_"Charles!" finally sounding like his woman._

_Her voice echoed, sounding distant and muffled. The pain pinched his chest and he suddenly felt tunable to breathe. Everything went black. He had passed out._

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><p><em>"How is he, Doctor?" He heard her saying, muffled, but it was definitely her voice.<em>

_"He'll be fine, if that's what you want to know. But this time things were a little more serious, he must be careful, Mrs. Hughes. He must avoid unnecessary efforts and large amounts of stress. Make sure he stays in bed for few days, he needs to rest and maintain a slow pace until he recovers completely."_

_"Like he will listen to me..." she mumbled between sniffles. Elsie was crying?  
>He wanted to get up but could not, his body was heavy and he felt so tired. Charles opened his eyes and saw the doctor and her standing by the room's door. How did he get there?<em>

_"You'll need to make him understand, none of us is getting any younger," Dr. Clarkson said in his gentle tone, patting Elsie's upper arm. How dare he touch her? What was he thinking? _

_"Are you going to be okay?"_

_"Of course, Dr. Clarkson. He scared the life out of me for a moment, but I'm better, thank you."_

_"Call me if anything happens, I'm at your disposal."_

_When Dr. Clarkson left, Charles cleared his throat loudly, attracting Elsie's attention. Her eyes were a bit red and her face flushed. She arranged the raised sleeve of her dress when she turned to him. It was clear that she had lost control and the noise of conversation in the hallway told him she was not the only one. He reached his hand for her to take, giving her an almost imperceptible smile._

_"How do you feel?" Elsie asked in a voice slightly hoarse, stopping beside the bed._

_"Not as bad as I look."_

_"Well, you heard what the doctor said."  
>Their fingertips touched briefly. Elsie ran her fingers slowly across his, until they touched the palm of his hand. Her hand was cold.<em>

"_Try to rest, I need to go downstairs," she stepped back, regaining her composure and her seriousness. He watched her step back and take a deep breath._

_"Will you come back later to keep me company?"_

_"Maybe I will."_

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><p>He remembered that hellish afternoon a few weeks ago. She was so cold and distant as she sat in the chair beside his bed, keeping silent company while reading some book from the library. And even when he asked her to lie down a bit with him she hadn't relaxed. She was just there in person but with her thoughts away, far away. He felt her get up after a while and felt her presence for a little bit more while she watched his sleep from the chair.<p>

How could he love someone so desperately and have her so close and not being able to live his love? He had committed errors of judgment, he knew it and would never deny it. He knew that most of their situation was his fauld, but Elsie always jumped to conclusions in a rush, closed herself off to the possibility of conversation. Stubborn; that was what his Scottish dragon was.

He learned later, by a comment from Anna that when the incident occurred Elsie called for help and bent down in front of him, holding his hands until the boys carry him up to his bedroom. Charles knew even that she locked herself in her room for a few minutes and when she returned to his bedside, her eyes were tortured.

Then, on another occasion, when Dr. Clarkson came to see how he was improving, he told him that the woman had a sudden drop of pressure and nearly fainted. "_You'll end up killing yourself and her, Mr. Carson. The poor woman was really concerned about you_." The doctor said with a tone of mockery, barely disguising the sharp comment. He had frightened everyone, downstairs and upstairs.

Since then they had talked less and less.

Casting a glance toward the hall clock, Charles noticed that it should not take too long before she would be back, but he was surprised to find her in his pantry when he opened the door. Elsie had placed a small bundle on the table and turned on her heel toward the door.

"Mrs. Hughes, were you looking for me?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"Not exactly; I bought this for you in the village. I thought that perhaps you would like it." Elsie said, lifting the small bundle from the table to hand to him. He noted that she held the edge, trying her best not to let their hands touch. "It's just a new pair of cufflinks. I could not find your other pair when..." she paused, cleared her throat as she clutched the handle of the small black leather bag she was carrying. "Since we haven't found it," she finished, supplying the memory of the last time she'd seen Charles using his more formal pair of cufflinks.

He merely nodded, holding the package in his hands. His cufflinks were gone after the servant's ball. He drank a little bit too much in the solitude of his pantry and tried in the worst way to make a pass at her, appearing drunk in her room late at night and taking off his clothes.

"Thank you, I did not expect you to worry about these. Actually, you should not have done this. I should have bought a new pair myself. If you would like, I can reimburse you."

Charles realized that she would certainly take his words as an offense as soon as he said them. He felt incredibly foolish and looked over her eyes, with his head and back slumped forward. Elsie opened and closed her mouth, breathing sharply before swallowing hard and blinking her eyes a few times. He knew she was fighting to remain in control. Stubborn, both were extremely stubborn.

"No, I just..." She tried to speak in the most neutral tone she could manage, but her voice became shrill in the middle of the sentence and she said with a sigh. "It's just a gift. Forget it, Mr. Carson."

Elsie walked to the door, but he grabbed her wrist before she could leave, stopping her where she was. Their eyes met and he waited hopeful that she would be able to read the message in his eyes. In the recalcitrance, both were proud, too proud.

"Elsie, my love ..." he tried to say before she interrupted him.

"Don't do it Charles." There was a tone of appeal in her voice. She felt tired and maybe, if he knew how to play his cards right, this could be used in his favor.

"We need to talk."

"We've done it several times, we try to understand ourselves over and over and we don't. We got lost somewhere Charles" She sniffed, her eyes turned _away_ from his.

He noticed the weakness as her words became more difficult and low. Charles brought her close gently, pressing their bodies together. How long since they'd been like that? Weeks? Months? He closed his arms around her, hugging her as if she was a fragile and delicate flower and laid a kiss on the top of her head. Her scent was the same and the softness of her body in his arms was exactly as he remembered.

Actions could speak more than words, couldn't they? Well, he just thought that maybe she would understand, know, and notice. He was there; alive, breathing, holding her against his chest and nothing would change that. He was not going anywhere, he was not going to leave her; not to Haxby and much less to death.

Maybe it was the way that he pulled her into his arms, or the tiredness she was feeling, but he felt no reluctance in Elsie this time. She allowed herself to approach him, burying her face in his chest so she could hear his heart beating. Charles had run his hands along her arms, touching her face gently and lifting it so that both could look at each other.

"Talk to me." His words were no more than a whisper.

Elsie's eyes blinked slowly and she tilted her head slightly to the side while studied him carefully before putting a small hand on his arm and she lifted herself on tiptoe; not yet equaling his height, but it did not matter. Their noses touched for a fraction of a second, rubbing each other and before he could realize it her lips brushed against his in the most delicate and subtle way possible, barely kissing him.

"Not now." She said letting go of him, tears shining in her eyes.

And she was gone.

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><p><em><strong>Reviews are appreciated<strong>_


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